


A convergence of ways

by quigui



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dubious Consent, F/M, Human Castiel, M/M, Post-Season/Series 08 Finale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-07
Updated: 2014-01-22
Packaged: 2017-12-28 18:36:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 8
Words: 15,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/995183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quigui/pseuds/quigui
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the falling of the angels, Castiel is lost, learning to be human as he goes. Dean tries to find him, but angel after angel, there is no news of Cas. Will they find each other?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was a idea I had after the season 8 finale, but kept it at the back of my mind. Only recently did I start to write it, and the idea was to have just one chapter, but then the words and the plot started to run from me and gain a life of their own. I wanted to be finished before season 9 begins, but as work and procrastination take a huge amount of my time, here's the first chapter. (The rating might be a bit high for the first chapter, but I really wasn't sure.)
> 
> Also, for Non-con is for this chapter only, and if you need further explanation, check the end notes.
> 
> Unbeta'd, and since I'm tired, probably full of mistakes.

Castiel knows love. He knows of caring for someone, of putting them before himself, of willing sacrifice, of leaving everything behind for someone. He knows of happiness and feeling complete, of safety and comfort in the presence of someone. Of smiling at a thought and of rediscovering that someone really means the world to you every single day. Love was never a foreign concept to angels.

But he never understood physicality, the touches and kisses and sex that the human race equated or at least included with love. He tried to learn, but apparently he went the wrong way about it, from Dean’s and Sam’s reaction. Pornography was not the answer. It didn’t help that he felt that the vessel he inhabited was not his own, not him. It was a rental, an ill fitted suit that didn’t correspond to his shape. And, given the humans' reaction to sex and love and all its complex intricacies, it seemed wrong to use Jimmy’s body in such a way. So he never really thought about sex, and even when he was pushed by Dean towards it, he was reluctant, afraid and uncomfortable with the notion.

Yet now, now he is human. This body feels like his, finally fitting, no longer being like two separate entities coexisting in the same space. His first shock was the need for contact. As an angel he had gone months without a touch and it didn’t even register. As a human he was feeling the profound loss of being truly alone, of resorting to passersby for conversation and a few careful touches. Of wrapping his own arms around himself for some heat and comfort.

He misses the Winchesters; the careless way they bumped and shoved and hugged; the unstated way that contact was always there. He misses their conversations too, the way they had entire exchanges filled with culture references that he had no clue about. How they would smile at his bewilderment, and he could smile in turn, knowing that they were not laughing at him, but with him. How he would sometimes pretend not to get it just so they could carry on. How sometimes he showed he understood just to see the look of pride on their faces.

Touch and conversation were not the only cravings he felt. Famine had awakened Jimmy's desire for food, and as an angel he had acquired a taste for some foods and beverages, though he did not actually need them. But now Castiel feels true hunger and thirst, and has had a hard time finding sustenance. He has no money, and no one to turn to.

And as his body no longer has a grace to keep needs at bay, Castiel soon enough also feels the need for sexual release. At first he thought that it was just the need for contact, but when he started to get erections for seemingly mundane actions he realized he had to do something about it. He knew the mechanics, of course, he had watched humanity before and he knew what he had to do. And he knew there was nothing wrong with what he was doing, so there was no coyness or shame about it, and as such Castiel wasn't quite prepared for the onslaught of pleasure. He dived right in to it, grabbing his erect penis, and tugging it, surprising himself with a loud moan. It was quick, almost clinical, but exhilarating too. The orgasm sated him like nothing had done since he became human.

On the weeks after his discovery of the pleasures of masturbation, Castiel did not refrain from it, finding secluded places where he could pleasure himself in peace. Being homeless meant that secluded was still in the open, just not on the main street. He is surprised when a woman appears, as dirty and malnourished as he is, possibly under the effect of some drug, or the withdrawal of it. Castiel hand stops mid motion, and she eyes him, a smile spreading on her face.

"Is that for me, honey?” she asks, but does not wait for a response. She takes something from the pocket of her jacket, a condom, Castiel notes dumbfounded. She deftly unwraps it and slides it in place. Hitching her skirt and moving her underwear aside, she lowers herself onto Castiel’s lap. He tries to move away, not sure if he wants this to happen or not. In the back of his mind something tells him that maybe sex, even with this stranger, might provide the comfort that is missing from masturbation, the human element that he needs. Besides, Dean used to do it with strangers, and he had seemed happy with it.

The entire interaction is quiet, some grunts and moans, mostly on her part, and the sound of flesh slapping against flesh. She screams and clenches and Castiel feels his own orgasm rolling in. It is unsatisfying to say the least. The woman gets off him with a "thanks, love", and leaves. Castiel feels forlorn and lost, he feels worse than ever. The sex had been hollow, devoid of meaning and connection. And, above all, devoid of feeling. Castiel decides then that he will forget about sex. Masturbation would have to do to keep his needs in check, and only behind locked doors.

 

* * *

 

 

Dean knows all about physical relations, sex and pleasure. Love he keeps it at bay. Love is what always hurts him, and what makes him feel worthless. Love is reserved for family, which is the grand total of Sam, and the closest friends, which are mostly dead. And... No, he refuses to acknowledge that. Love is for family and close friends, and to be kept buried otherwise. He can do casual sex; he can do a casual fling too, even if lately he has chosen not to. He will not, however, put his heart out to be trod on.

He muses this as he observes a couple, possibly a recent relationship by the amount corny sugary phrases being used. He is waiting for Sam, looking at the news reports of meteor showers and miracles and strange amnesiac men.

"Anything?" Sam asks, sliding into the booth.

“A few things worth checking out close by. But check this one, miracle man in Oregon. I think it’s worth the drive.”

Sam doesn’t even glance at the laptop. “You think it’s him?”

“Could be. He was curing people last time. Or could be another angel, maybe this one will know something.”

“Dean.” Sam’s trademark concerned tone tells Dean that the conversation they’ve been avoiding has finally become unavoidable.

 He chooses to play dumb. “What?”

“You know he could be dead, right? We have no idea what happened up there. Actually, he could still be up there.”

“Or he could be on earth, human and glued to the ground like the rest of the angels. And you know he was really bad at taking care of himself as an angel. I don’t think he is going to be any better as a human.” It’s not like Dean hasn’t thought about this before, but he chooses to stick with hope and optimism for once in his life.

“Dean. You have to accept that he might be dead or not coming back.”

“And what, Sam? Give up on him? I’m not doing that. I will look for him until I get some answers, okay? I mean, dude’s resilient. I lost track of the times we thought he died, and the times he actually died.”

“This is going to be like dad all over again, isn’t it? Traipsing through the country looking for clues and cold trails…” Sam mutters.

Dean can’t believe what he is hearing. He thought Sam liked Cas. “Are you saying that you rather just forget about Cas? Is that it?”

“No, Dean. What I’m saying is just… Don’t get your hopes up, okay? If he is human, and he remembers, he will call. He knows our number. He knows where the bunker is. ”

“What if he doesn’t remember? What then?”

“I don’t know, he might already have a new life. He might be happy not remembering.” At Dean’s sour face, Sam rushes to change the subject a bit. “But maybe we should be trying to do something about Metatron. I just feel like we’re treating the symptoms, you know? And the sooner we get to him, the sooner we can know what happened to Cas.”

“And how do you propose we get into Heaven? Assuming that bastard is still there. Kevin is looking into it, but he’s not getting anywhere.”

“Maybe ask around a bit?”

“Ask who? Bobby is dead. Garth is missing. Every other hunter wants nothing to do with angels. Or us, for that matter.” At this point Dean is sure that they are the experts in angels - everyone else just has theoretical knowledge and a lot of assumptions.

“Maybe Crowley knows something…”

“Crowley? Half-human depressed Crowley that has been moping around the bunker? That Crowley? The one that has said a grand total of one word since we got him there and that word was _meh_!?”

“I mean... He used to make deals, he probably knows a thing or two.”

“He made deals to get people into Hell, not Heaven.” Dean has no idea what happened in the church between Sam and Crowley, but his brother is a lot more sympathetic towards the demon. Dean would have put Ruby's knife through his eyes if it weren't for Sam stopping him.

“But he might know how to play Metatron. Or what the end game is. I mean, he’s got Heaven all for himself, but what is he going to do with it?”

“I don’t know, make himself a new God? It always seems to be what drives these guys. All the power, all the souls, rule the universe, that kind of shit.” Sam seems to accept it. But then again, that is really the norm. Even Cas has fallen prey to that. “So, Oregon?”

“Okay, we can check Oregon. But let’s make a detour through Kansas. I want to check on Kevin. And Crowley.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part 2, and this is now fully into AU territory. Thank you for reading.

Castiel soon learns how to get out of wherever he is. He learns how to get some change. He learns that helping load and unload boxes at the backdoor of a restaurant can mean a free meal. If he cleans up somewhat he can hitch a ride in a truck. A smile goes a long way in getting things. Helping others will open them to help you.

He has a destination in mind. Lebanon, Kansas. Once he gets there he is sure he can find Sam and Dean. He can find the bunker. The problem with hitching rides is that no one seems to be heading where he needs to go. He thanks the drivers for the short trips, sometimes he walks through the night, until his feet are full of blisters and his clothes are ragged.

With the few dollars he managed to earn in odd jobs and from charity he buys warmer, more comfortable clothes. The trench coat he trades for a pair of sneakers. Of all the clothing that he lets go, the coat is the only piece that he even thinks of keeping. Dean had kept it for him before, had placed a sentimental value on it, treasured it even. But sentimentality would not make the journey easier. Good shoes would.

He is only a few miles outside town when he remembers the he hadn’t checked the inside pocket of the coat. He groans. He had a list of all the cell phone numbers the Winchesters use. He should have remembered that. Why hadn’t he remembered that? Now he is stranded in the middle of nowhere, and his only option is to find the bunker.

He tries to remember one of Dean’s numbers. He used to know them by heart, but his mind is coming up blank. Too blank. He realizes that Metatron did something else besides making him human: he made it impossible to contact the Winchesters. But for some reason the memory of the bunker is still there. So Castiel holds on to it.

As the days pass and the distance traveled by hitchhiking doesn't increase he realizes that what he thought was just coincidence or bad luck seems to have a more supernatural hand in it. No one seems to be heading east, at least no one willing to give him a ride. They can take Castiel up to the next junction but that's it. A small stretch of road every time, just enough to relax a bit, just enough to be close to a town by sunset. The nights are cold and he doesn't want to camp in the woods.

At night he sleeps on the streets. He finds other homeless people, shares what food he has and they show him where to find shelter. They all talk about the meteor shower, how the sky was lit with thousands of shooting stars, how pretty it was. It pains Castiel to hear of his brothers’ fall in quite that way. It was not pretty. It would have been painful and devastating.

He is plagued by nightmares. He dreams of the angels burning in the sky, falling, falling, crashing all around him, looking at him accusingly. Castiel is surrounded by angry angels but he does nothing. He deserves their anger and hatred. He destroyed heaven, allowed Metatron to play him. Why shouldn't they have their revenge? Every night Castiel dreams of torture at the hands of his brothers. Yet every morning he wakes up and tries to get a little closer to the Winchesters. Because he has to fix this. And if anyone can help it's the Winchesters.

 

* * *

 

Oregon turns up not being about an angel at all. It is some pagan god that heals women and in exchange impregnates them and then takes the child. Wacky, but all in all, easy to deal with. Dean wonders when dealing with gods has become an easy job.

"When did Pagan Gods become an easy hunt?" he asks Sam.

"I would say it was after we discovered that the hard pagan god hunt was actually an archangel." Sam says without looking up from his files and news clippings.

"Touché.” Truth be told, they had had harder hunts besides Gabriel. But to Sam that hunt ranks the hardest, Dean figures. He couldn’t imagine seeing his brother die a hundred times, day after day.

They are driving to Nebraska, checking another news report of strange lights and miracles. Dean hopes it's an angel willing to talk. Scratch that, he hopes it’s Cas. He tried praying, but he doesn’t even know if his prayers can reach him. He believes Cas is human, much like the other angels. He just hopes he hasn’t forgotten all about them again, that he hasn’t found a new wife, a new life.

Dean stops his thoughts right there, because it’s no use thinking like that, wishing for things. He focuses on the angel hunt instead. So far they've managed to track down 19 angels, none of them with answers.

The first weeks after the fall they had barely left the bunker. Sam was recovering from the botched trial. Kevin was working himself into a frenzy with both tablets trying to find a way to send the angels back to heaven and closing both heaven and hell without anyone having to die. Crowley moped around, poked his nose where he shouldn't and ignored the Winchesters all together. They discovered that demon traps were still effective against him and started drawing them everywhere. Crowley no longer needed to be shackled and thrown in the dungeon and they didn't have to worry that he was going to run away. Mostly he sat around and read old magazines that he found. The oldest the better, it seemed.

After two weeks of this Dean was getting stir crazy. He had to make sure Sam was eating. He had to make sure Kevin was eating and taking breaks and actually sleeping. He had to force Crowley to take a shower when the stink became unbearable. He had to get out of there, and a grocery run was the perfect excuse.

The bunker had become a way house for broken people. Even Dean fitted the bill, if he was honest with himself. He hadn't been whole for a long time. They just needed Cas and then they would have the full deck. Not for the first time he wondered where Cas was. He had tried to contact him, but the phone had been disconnected. He prayed. He just had to wait for Cas to call then. Or to drop on their doorstep.

On the grocery store the clerk had the TV on the news report. The unexplained meteor shower was still in the highlights, the scientific community was still baffled. He no longer paid attention to it. He was almost checking out when he realized that what the newscaster was reporting was very different. A man had been hit by one of the meteors and had gained superpowers, only he seemed to be out of his mind, and was harming people. Two towns over. Dean paid for the groceries, and called Sam while driving.

"Sammy, I'm gonna check a possible hunt close by. Make sure no one destroys the bunker while I'm gone, and eat something."

"A hunt? What kind of hunt?” Sam's voice is hoarse and slow, like he just had woken up. He probably had.

"It might be a fallen angel. News reports said a man was hit by one of the meteors and gained superpowers."

"There were no meteors." Even over the phone Dean could hear the cogs turning in Sam’s head.

"Exactly. So I'm going to check it out. When I know something I'll call you."

"Dean, be careful. If he has angel mojo it could be Metatron."

"It isn't, they showed the picture on the news. Regular dude." As regular as they could be, by the footage on the TV. Mid 40s, a slight beer belly, going bald. He looked like someone who would do carpentry on the weekends, maybe build dollhouses for the daughters. Not maniacal angel bent on destruction. But then again Cas looked like a holy tax accountant, and he was anything but.

“Different vessel?”

“I did not think of that. Okay, I’m almost there, I promise to be careful. Talk to you later.”

Dean waited in the car while he saw the angel being transported to the police station. He was pissed, but he became downright angry when he spotted Dean. He quickly overpowered the 4 officers surrounding him, and beelined to the impala. Dean got out the car before any damage could be done, and he knew that an angel could do a lot of damage to a car. Or a person but he wasn’t about to start caring about how injured he would get. His baby was a whole different story.

“Winchester! This is your fault! You meddle in the affairs of Hea…”

“Wow, Dude!” Dean shouted, “Are you trying to plead insanity? Is that it? Calm down and think what you are going to say, at least in front of them. I’m here to… I’m here to help, okay?” His mind was going a mile a minute, trying to figure out what to do. The angel had already made quite a fuzz, but if he went to jail things were not going to end well. The cops were finally getting up and drawing weapons. “Play cool and no more wacky stuff. What’s your name?” He shot a quick text to Sam saying “Cuckoo’s Nest,” and hoped he would get it in time. Fishing for the appropriate ID card, he looked at the angel. “Name?”

“Muriel.” His eyes hadn’t lost the glare.

“And the vessel?”

“William Dunn.” Now the glaring was accompanied by confusion.

“Sir, step away from the vehicle, hands where I can see them.” The officers had arrived, and had their firearms drawn. Show time, Dean though putting on his best smile, his less aggressive expression and hoping it would be enough to fool them.

“Sure, sure, officers. Is just that I used to work down in Osawatomie and Billy here was a patient there. You can imagine my shock when I saw him on the news. He shouldn’t be outside, at least not without his meds.”

“You’re a doctor?” They hadn’t lowered the weapons, but seemed to be more open to conversation. The man that had asked the question was older than the others, and whereas the others still looked very unsure of what they were doing, this one was clearly seasoned and entirely pissed with the whole situation. Dean assumed he was the captain of the force of wherever he was.

“Nurse. I was just getting my hospital card and ID.”

The captain took both. Dean kept the smile on, helpful and goodhearted.

“You are very far from home, Mr. McMurphy. What brings you here?”

“Visiting an old buddy, actually. From the hospital, I mean. Saw the news report while I was filling up the tank, and thought I should check if it really was Billy.”

“His name is not Billy, he said it was Muriel.”

“Muriel, hmm? When I worked there he went by William. William Dunn I think, but everyone called him Billy. I suspect he’s been off his meds for some time now. He was prone to delusions, I think, so… I can call my friend, he used to be responsible for his ward, he should know better.”

“Do you have a number? We’ll call and check it.” The captain was still suspicious. Dean gave him the number, and hoped Sam would remember this play.

“Hello, can I speak with Patrick Bromden?” Dean heart was almost exploding with tension, improv was usually not a problem, but _usually_ did not include a Sam at half steam. The captain was listening to the answer, and there was no change in expression. So far, so good.

“Doctor Bromden, right. Are you working now?” Muriel seemed to be also listening in on the conversation. Dean hoped we wouldn’t get any ideas, and would just keep quiet and still.

“Osawatomie, right. The thing is, we have an individual here, violent, with… I’m going to call it superpowers because that’s just what it looks like. And a former colleague of yours, Mr. Jack McMurphy, tells us that he is a patient of yours, by the name of William Dunn. Is that correct?

“Escaped 2 weeks ago, hmm? Delusional psychosis disorder?... Non-violent!? He’s far from non-violent, sir.” Dean looked at Muriel again, hoping he wasn’t getting angry again. He was. But it was silent rage in the form of glaring daggers at the man on the phone. Or possibly at the voice on the other end of the line.

“Medication, right. Could it be easily obtained?” Whatever Sam was saying, they were buying it.

“Better to take him there. Sure, we can do that. We have a prisoner transfer bus.” _Sammy, what are you doing?_ Dean thought. Going to a hospital where there was no record of the angel, or themselves was clearly not the plan.

“We damn well saw that he doesn’t respond well to restraints but what else are we to do. He was able to beat up 5 armed officers with his bare hands.”

“Mr. McMurphy is qualified then? I’m not sure I’m comfortable with letting a civilian drive a violent…”

“Fine, we’ll make a release form and a liability waiver and whatever other legal mumbo-jumbo we can find to make this not our problem. But Muriel here will have to be interrogated.”

“Five days, that’s all you get. You make him saner and calmer, and we’ll see what we can do about all his charges, okay?”

The officer had a deep scowl by then, clearly not happy with the situation. Turning off the phone, he faced Dean.

"Well, Mr. McMurphy, it appears you'll have to transport Muriel back to Osawatomie. Are you okay with that?"

Dean wasn't too happy to share a car with an angry and hostile angel, but he also needed real answers. And something to do. So he would have to be Jack McMurphy a bit longer. "Of course, officer, Billy shouldn't be out at all. I'm surprised he hurt other people and not himself. On the news they said he was hit by a meteor?"

"Yes...  Well we think so, we found him in a crater, buck naked and covered in soot. The people in the farm took him in, gave him clothes and fed him. We did try to find out who he was, but no one answered our notices. Didn't think of checking the mental hospitals though. The problems only started today. He tried to set the Robertson's cat, that's the family that took him in, on fire. And then attacked Mrs. Robertson."

"The cat was an accident," Dean heard the angel mutter, and almost laughed.

"Sometimes when people go off meds it takes some time for their disease's symptoms to kick in. And if he took such a big hit with the meteor it's normal for things to be… well, off norm, even when off norm is not very normal." God, Dean wished Sam was there. He could spew medical drivel and platitudes so much better. But they bought it. They must have been really desperate to see the back of Muriel. He signed the forms, put the angel in the car, prayed he wouldn't kill him and drove off in the direction of the hospital. When he was sure we wasn't being followed, be started to make his way back to the bunker.

During the trip he tried to get information from the angel, while explaining what he knew about the fall. He was not happy to share, but tit for tat and all that, it was the only way to have Muriel open up. Also, there was a very strong resentment toward Dean, Sam and Cas, and explaining that who really was at fault was Metatron smoothed things out.

He learned that for two weeks the angel had been without any kind of mojo, and then suddenly, he was powerful again and the cat got caught in it. And then Mrs. Robertson. He had been unable to control the power. He had tried to return to Heaven then, but had found it barred to him.

In the end they never made it to the bunker. Dean bought a cell phone, and gave it plus whatever money he had to the angel. Muriel would live his own life, provided he didn’t start hurting people again. And when or if Dean ever found a way to get him back to Heaven he would get him there. Also, if Muriel heard from Castiel he was to contact Dean immediately.

The second angel they found turned out to be a baby. Much like when Anna had fallen, a couple that had been unable to conceive for years found themselves expecting. They left the couple alone, and marked the place where the grace had landed.

The third angel was much like Muriel, only less angry and more depressed.

The fourth angel didn’t have any memories of being an angel, but everything else fit. Sam had finally gone with Dean to check that one. After a brief conversation with the ex-angel, they went away. They started a list of found angels, and state: barred from Heaven, amnesiac or baby. There was no clear pattern on why they showed these symptoms.

Angel after angel, they were no closer to finding Cas or anything new about the curse. Dean is hoping the 20th will be it. That the 20th will be Cas.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've realized I have really no plan for this (*sorry*) - all I had was the idea for the first chapter and a probable get together scene. So, yeah, making it up as I go. But should be done in 2 (or 3 chapters) more chapters.
> 
> \---

He is 30 miles outside Denver, exiting a mini-mart when he hears the unmistakable roar of a ‘67 Chevy Impala. He turns his head to find the source of the sound, just in time to see it turn from the parking lot of a motel and speed out of town. Castiel just stares into the distance, seeing the car get smaller and smaller. He supposes he could have tried running, hoping Dean would spot him in the rear-view mirror. But he doubts he could even muster the energy for a quick jog.

He sighs, looks at the water and fruit in his hands as if they could hold the answers to his troubles. So close, and yet so far. He takes a bite out of the apple and makes his way to the motel. Maybe they are still staying there. Maybe they are working a case. Maybe they’ll come back.

His legs ache, and his feet are blistered. He has walked through the night. He didn’t want the brief company of another trucker and he didn’t want another night filled with nightmares. He asks himself where the angels are. He has yet to find any, though he doesn’t know if it’s a good thing or not. Maybe they all died. Maybe all that is left is Metatron, with an open path to become a new god. He did always loved stories, so maybe he would fashion a new mythos just for himself. Maybe they just don’t remember, like Anna hadn’t. Maybe they were all human now, starting new lives.

Castiel just doesn’t care. He no longer cares about the affairs of heaven and angels. In a way, he realizes that it was the same thing his father had done, saying _I’m done with this, you take the reins, I’m going on a holiday, someone else fix this mess_. It doesn’t excuse God, and Castiel doesn’t forgive him for abandoning them, for abandoning _him_ , no matter how many times he made sure he didn’t die or died permanently. But he understands.

He has finished the apple by the time he gets to the motel. He wipes his hands on his clothes, looks at his reflection on the window of a car and deems himself presentable enough. With a quick sniff at his clothes he thinks he doesn’t smell too bad. He hopes he is not going to be thrown out without getting a chance to talk.

The doorbell rings loudly in his ears, and the young man at the reception desk looks very cheerful. More cheerful than Castiel is ready to handle, tired and sleep deprived as he is. But he smiles at him anyway.

"Heya there! Anything I can help you with?" Castiel winces at the loudness of his voice.

"Hello. The two men that left, in the black Impala, are they coming back?" No time for beating around the bush or making small talk. The quicker he could find Sam and Dean the quicker he could rest and let his guard down.

"Afraid not, they just checked out. That car was a beauty wasn’t it? I don’t think they wanted to sell it, though..."

"I wasn’t looking to buy. I need to get hold of them." Castiel cuts in. He is not interested in the car or the young man’s opinion of it.

"Do you know them? They were a weird pair, asking strange questions around town, ‘bout miracles and new people here."

So they were following up on angel stories - although Castiel has no idea if they are having any luck or not. But he chooses to believe that it is a sign there are still angels around, and despite all, it brings a little warmth to his heart. "I know them, yes. They follow up on… strange occurrences." He had no idea what kind of story they had told this guy, but that was the gist of what Sam and Dean did everywhere they went.

"I think they said they were reporters, yeah. I should have their card somewhere, in case something else happens, they said. I can dig it up for you."

"I would appreciate it a lot if you did." It’s the first real break he gets, the first lead he manages to get his hands into.

The clerk goes into a small office, and Castiel can hear the rustling of papers, pens falling on the floor and the occasional swear word. He sits on a small sofa near the door, content in giving a rest to his legs, stretching and massaging them. He is still getting used to the aches of the human body. Truth be told, he’s still getting used to the human body. It has been almost a month since Metatron took his grace, but everything is still very new, still very strange.

He doesn’t realize but he must have fallen asleep sometime, because the clerk is shaking him. "Hey, oh sorry, didn’t realize you were actually asleep. I was gone like 5 minutes. You must be really tired."

"I am sorry. Yes, I am tired. Do you have their card?" He asks hopeful.

"That’s what I was saying, I couldn’t find it. I swear I put it in the office, with the rest of the business cards people always leave, but it isn’t there. But there is a number on their check-in form. I shouldn’t give it to you, but I mean, they gave us a card for contact, so there shouldn’t be a problem. As long as you don’t tell my boss. And you say you know them, right?"

Castiel nods at him. He is being very helpful, though he is expecting the phone number to be a dead end. He knows how Dean works. That phone number is going to be a fake one, as it is tied to a payment with a fraudulent credit card. He takes the small card with the number in it and just stares at it.

"Do you need to use the phone here? You look like you have nothing on you."

"Yes, please. I... Umm, I lost all my things, that's why I need to get in touch with them, they are friends, they can help me." The man, Castiel finally sees a name tag, upside down, Carl, nods and gets him the phone. As he expected the number is disconnected, at least it’s the message he gets.

"No luck. I suppose I can try later." He says to Carl, though he knows it’s no use.

"Hey, do you want to crash here?"

Castiel look at him, and thinks that he would very much like to _crash_ as he says. But he knows it’s not as easy as that. "I have no money, or very little that I have to save it until to get me home. I can’t afford a room."

"I know. But we have a small cot in the office, for the night shift if we need some shuteye. You can use it, free of charge. You look beat, and if you are actually walking home, which is what it looks like, you should rest. Maybe I can find someone going your way, who can take you part of the way. Where is home?"

Castiel smiles the first heartfelt smile in a long time. He is glad there is still goodness in the world, and that people still help each other, despite there being angels on heaven or not, despite there being a god or not. "Kansas. I’m still very far. Thank you for the offer. I would like very much to have some rest."

 

* * *

 

Angel number 34 wants to kill them. No " _Whoa, dude, we’re trying to help you_ " or " _Let’s just talk about this_ ". It’s punching and kicking and Sam running to get an angel blade from the trunk of the car and hoping the angel doesn’t get any smiting ideas.

They try to pin him down, but angels are a force of nature. Maybe they could have tried the banishment sigil, but with heaven closed they have no idea if it will work. And it doesn't seem the time for experiments.

"Just stab him, Sam!"

Sam tries to do just that, but the angel turns around and manages to punch him down. He turns back to Dean, intent on continuing the assault only to find that Dean has moved from his spot on the ground, which wins him a knee on the kidneys, taking him by surprise.

"Now, Sam!" He screams but Sam is already on it, stabbing the angel on the chest. He lights up, which they had doubts if it would happen. But if the angel had been graceless a stab is a stab is a stab.

"Are you okay, Dean?"

"Yeah, fine. Just another day hunting, right? We've had worse. But damn, I wish we could have gotten some answers." He says, still getting his breath back.

"Well, we now know that there are angels that blame us and Cas for what happened."

"We already knew that."

"We now know they will not stop to listen and really want us dead." Sam says with pointed look and Dean has to admit that this was the first angel they couldn't talk out of murdering intent and revenge.

"You know Dean, this is a bit pointless." Dean turns to Sam, tired of this old conversation, intent of shutting it down before it even starts. "Hey, just hear me out. We are getting nowhere closer to Cas this way, and I think if he had any mojo, he would have done something big to attract our attention. So, I’m going to assume he is human." Dean is glad he doesn’t include _or dead_ in the things he assumes Cas is, but he sees the fleeting thought on Sam’s face. "So, I was thinking, maybe we should be searching for him a little bit differently. I mean, the other angels haven’t heard of him, even the ones actively searching for him. So, maybe see if we can get Charlie to hack into Missing Persons’ databases and get Cas in there, with our number as contact. I would even go as further as newspapers’ ads. I mean, someone will have seen him by now. So if we can get at least a small trail to follow, we can find him."

Dean feels a glimmer of hope. It’s just that, a glimmer. Because it’s probable that Sam’s idea won’t lead them anywhere. But the truth is they haven’t had any kind of info on Cas since they started finding angels. And although he tries not to think it, there is a small voice whispering, telling him that Cas is dead, and it seems to get louder every fricking day. So he’ll take anything, any harebrained idea that might work. Because he needs Cas. He has known it for so long, but had refused to admit it. But after purgatory he knows that his family won’t be complete without Cas. So he agrees with Sam, and calls Charlie, who manages to set up their plan with the minimal fuss. She even comes up with ideas to use online communities to get Cas photo to circle around.

These new ideas give him that extra hope, and he supposes Sam sees right through him, with his knowing smile. But he doesn’t care. Because he can believe they are going to bring Cas home.

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long time without updates, RL is a bitch. No much further to go, so let's see if this can be finished before Christmas (no promises)

He wakes up from his nap, not quite well rested, but as close as he can these days. Carl looks up from his desk, pausing a game on the computer.

"Did you sleep well?" Castiel nods at him, sitting up. "I found you a ride, friend of mine can take all the way to the state line. Should save you some days of walking. Do you have a map?"

Castiel takes his old battered map, one of his first purchases with the first bit of money he had managed to get. He keeps it to mark his slow progress. Carl, looks at the lines he has marked there, all the turns away from his destination, all the times he got lost. "You sure haven’t been taking a straight line home," he comments, but it’s non judging.

"It’s hard sometimes to get rides where I want to go. It seems like my… erm… luck is just not that good." Lack of luck is a good way to put a curse of an angel in layman’s terms.

"Well, it’s about to change. My friend can leave you here." He points at the junction, very close to the Kansas state line. "He has some business to take care there. I’m afraid he can’t take you further, but this should really help you."

"It will. Thank you very much for all this help."

"Hey, don’t sweat it. I know what’s like to run out of luck. My family lost a ton of money some years ago, bad decisions, bad lifestyle, you know. Luckily we had people that could help us. So, now I try to help people if I can. Here, these days I have a bit of spare money to give, so take this." He hands a bunch of bills to Castiel, who looks at him. It’s close to 70 dollars. He tries to give it back, starting to say it is too much, but Carl cuts, "You can use it to get into a bus, make the last miles easier Or rest somewhere with a bed. Just take it."

Castiel has no more words to properly thank this man, so he nods and smiles, and takes the money. He figures that this is why he always rebelled before, because in the midst of war, and pettiness, and greed, and violence, there is always this spark of goodness, of selflessness, of caring, of love, that all the angels on heaven could never understand. They followed orders, they loved because they were told to. They could never understand choosing to be this good.

Carl’s friend, John, turns out to be an older man, rough but friendly. He reminds him of Bobby, and that is enough for him to relax in the truck. Not that his previous hitchhikes had been any kind of problematic, but he is wary of strangers, not being able to see their souls and know whether they are human or demons, whether they are good or have a blackened soul. All humanity’s betrayals and misunderstandings and lies are suddenly easier to comprehend. Without seeing a soul, there is no gauge for goodness. It’s all about trust, and getting to know people.

Which puts his interactions with the Winchesters into prospective. Neither was very religious, Dean had been outright against them at the start. Yet he had trusted Castiel. He had thought that maybe Dean had seen that he was a good angel, had good intentions, but it at been all about trusting. Trusting not to be betrayed, trusting that humanity wasn’t going to suffer from Heaven’s politics. And it had been a close call so many times.

"So, you’re going back to your family?" John voice interrupts his thoughts.

"Not exactly, they are friends, but they are the closest thing I have to family these days." He remembered Dean telling him, he was family. He was needed. He hoped it was still true.

"I suppose one makes family along the way. So, you from Kansas?"

"No, my friends are, though." Castiel figures that saying he’s from Heaven won’t do, so he decides to borrow one last thing from Jimmy. "I’m from Illinois."

"Still got any folks up there? Or really no family at all?"

"No, none at all. All gone." Castiel says, and he supposes it is true. Even with the fallen angels still walking the earth, he was human, any ties to them were gone.

The rest of the trip is filled with small talk, and John has a lot of stories to share to fill the hours. He gives hitchhikers a ride frequently, as it gives him some company for the long drives, and adds to his long list of adventures.

John drops him at Burlington bus station, and since they made good time, with no hurdles, no setbacks whatsoever, Castiel decides to press his luck, and gets a ticket to the closest place to the bunker he can afford. He just hopes the luck will hold.

 

* * *

 

The bunker is quiet, maybe too quiet considering that there are five people in it. Or four and a semi-demon, Dean isn’t going to bother with semantics.

Charlie dropped by, laptop, tablet and god knows what other gadgets in tow, and is typing away in her computer. Sam is cataloging the library, working in silence, and doing everything by hand. Every few hours Charlie steals his file cards and just adds them to whatever program or app she forced them to use, muttering about it being the 21st century.

Kevin is still translating the tablets, but he says he continues to find no clues as to send the angels back to heaven and deal with Metatron once and for all.

Crowley is reading a first edition of Pride & Prejudice that they didn’t know that they had.

Dean could join them, look into the books or past cases to find a solution. But with all the driving around, rounding up angels, he needs some alone time, with his thoughts, with his bed, with his things. Funny how before they had the bunker he could have, and had indeed, gone years on the road, from one motel to another, to nights slept inside the car, without any problem. But now he has a home, and he craves being able to just use his space, sleep in his bed, put on his records… In fact, he decides it’s time for a little music, to chase away the silence.

He lies down, humming to himself. He is at center of the bed, he can sprawl all he wants, but he keeps his arms crossed on his chest. His mind wanders, and it’s not that strange that it wanders to Cas. It seems that all he thinks about these days is him. It’s the uncertainty maybe, the fact that he is actually running on hope, hope that Cas is alive, that he is well, that he remembers, that he wants to get back to them.

Dean doesn’t know what they’ll do once they find him, but most likely just keep going. Searching for angels, a way to send them back to Heaven. Dean wonders if Cas will want to go back. He seemed willing to shut himself in with all the other angels before. Would Dean lose Cas again? He wasn’t sure he could go through that.

Disturbed by the turn his thoughts had taken Dean gets up, intent on doing something that takes all his concentration. His phone starts ringing before he decides what.

He turns off the music before answering. "Hello?"

"Mr. Grange? This is Carl Stevens, from Longhorn Motel. You and your colleague stayed with us about a week ago?"

"Oh, I remember. What can I help you with? Did something else happen?" It had been an amnesiac angel, but he seemed to be able to cure people. They had had a talk with him, but gave nothing away. He had found his powers when he cured his wife of cancer, and had seemed a very good guy. No point in disturbing him.

"Well, after you left, someone came by, looking for you. A friend of yours, Jimmy." _Jimmy!?_ Dean thinks, _Could it be Jimmy as in Jimmy Novak as in Cas?_

"Jimmy. Was he, umm, tall, blue eyes, dark hair?"

"Yes, that would be him. He had a bit of trouble, found himself with nothing. I couldn’t find your card, so we tried the number you gave on the check in form, but no luck. I don’t know if he has already reached you, but since I found the card today I thought it was better to let you know anyway." That was the first lead they had. One week ago, Cas had been in Colorado. Just one state away. And they had been there. So close.

"No, we haven’t heard from him. Do you know where he went after talking with you?"

"Yes, I got a friend of mine to give him a ride, to Burlington, near the state line. He said he was going to Kansas, that’s where you’re based, right?" Dean exits the room into the library, looking for a map. Sam, Charlie and Kevin just look at him expectantly.

"Yes, right. So, that’s the last you know of him?" Dean finds a map of Colorado, and starts searching for Burlington.

"Yeah. Well, my friend dropped him at the bus station, and I gave him some money, so he could be closer to you."

"Thank you so much. We haven’t heard from him, so we were afraid something had happened. And thank you for helping him."

"No problem." Carl says before ending the call.

Sam, Charlie and Kevin keep staring at him. Crowley doesn’t seem to care.

"We’ve got a lead on Cas. One week ago he was in Burlington, Colorado. I’m going there to figure out where he went next."

"That’s great news," Sam says, standing up. And Dean sees the happiness in his face. On Charlie’s and Kevin’s too. All seems right at that moment, his family is getting back together. "I’m coming with you."

"You don’t have to. If you’d rather stay here trying to find something about the angels. It’s not a job. It’s just Cas."

"Hey, I want to see Cas again too. So let’s go."


	5. Chapter 5

The bus ride is peaceful, and he manages to get some sleep. He remembers the last time he took a bus, running away from everything, with a tablet hidden inside himself. That had been a risk, a big gamble, but he would have done it all over again. This time he has nothing to his name but the clothes on his body, a map on his pocket and the change from Carl’s money.

He steps down from the bus, blinking in the sun. He is grateful it is warm, but he is fearing the cold of the night. He could find a room, he still has money. He could find a shelter too, the town is big enough to have one. But the goal is so close that he is unwilling to tarry.

He looks at the map, and finds his position. There are still about 100 miles to go. He figures he can make it there in a week.

It doesn’t take long for Castiel to realize he has miscalculated his speed. He managed a good 20 miles on the first day, reaching the next small town. The next day he was able to walk 10 miles before he had to give up. Only he was in the middle of nowhere, and his water was running low.

On the third day he gets to a very small town, and manages to buy some food. But the locals are wary of him. He supposes he looks dirty, broken, suspicious. He doesn’t blame them, and keeps going.

He finds the main road again, and follows it trying to hitchhike a ride. It takes a long time before anyone drives by, and even longer before anyone stops. When they do, they only take him 2 miles before they reach their destination. It still helps, and Castiel still smiles and thanks them for their help.

When the week passes he is 30 miles from his destination. He figures another week, surely just under another week, and he’ll be there. He decides to go cross country again, trusting that he has supplies. It doesn’t take long to figure out he should have stayed on the road. He gets lost, even though he isn't sure how. He keeps his position according to the sun, but somewhere he started going south instead of north.

Castiel sits down and weeps silently. He is tired and alone, and is starting to doubt that he should ever have started this journey. He could have done what Metatron had told him to do. Find a wife, live a life. Forget everything about angels and the Winchesters. Yet Metatron hadn’t taken his memories. So he clearly wanted him to remember, wanted him to despair, probably. And that thought itself is enough to make him stand up, and keep walking. Because he won’t give Metatron the pleasure of beating him.

When he is 10 miles from Lebanon he gets to the road again. It has been 5 days. He no longer walks, just drags his feet forward. They feel raw, but Castiel knows if he takes off his shoes, he’ll never manage to put them back again. He is almost there, but at the rate he is going he estimates two days. He looks at his water bottle. Two days is also his estimation. His food is good for one day, although he could stretch it to two.

He spends a night looking at the stars, refusing to sleep despite knowing that the rest would be useful. But he also knows he is at his limit, even if his supplies can be stretched to two days, his energy can't. And if this is to be his last night, he wants to see the marvel that is the universe once more. He will look at the stars and the moon, and listen to the sounds of the night and make peace with himself.

 

\-----

 

Finding Cas is not as easy as it had appeared to be. When they had arrived in Burlington, he wasn’t there, of course. Some asking around told them that he had indeed gotten into a bus. No one knew to where. The next step had been to go through all the stops along the way, all the way to Wichita to try to figure out where he could be.

Yet, all the stops were still very far from the bunker. He was close, but if he was going on foot, he might never get there. Dean scanned the roads while driving, figuring Cas would at least stick to the main roads.

It has been a week. A week of not finding Cas. A week of bus station after bus station, without anyone remembering him. Sam doesn’t say a word, either encouraging or just to go back to the bunker. He keeps looking as well. Maybe before this he hadn’t actually believed Cas was still alive.

Dean, however, is close to giving up the search. Because by now, Cas will be making his way through countryside, and there is no way they can cover that much ground. He figures Cas has at most two weeks headstart on them, but he has no idea how he is moving around. He doesn’t think he knows how to drive. Which is something Dean is intent on teaching him, if he is going to remain human.

He looks at Sam, who is going through the bus plan again, and just shakes his head. "Time to give up, Sam. We’ll never going to find him this way. Let’s just regroup, and rethink our strategy. These towns have our missing person ads, they’ll call us when and if they see Cas."

"Are you sure? We can keep going-"

"No we can’t. The only lead we had has gone dry. Like I said, regroup and rethink." Dean has to be practical, and during the entire search for Cas he has to admit he has been anything but. "Charlie will probably have a way to hack into bus service servers or something and get the live feeds from stations or something. Maybe Crowley will give an input and tells us a spell to find people. I swear I don’t know why we haven’t killed him yet."

"Human…?" Sam asks doubtful. He probably has thought the same thing before and failed at reaching a satisfying answer.

"Almost human, and still not a good person."

"He could be useful against Metatron…?"

"You are not sure either, stop trying to come up with excuses. Let’s go. We’ll stop along the way to get some supplies. And pie. I really need pie right now."

The drive back is fast, they had already been circling back to where they started. Dean doesn’t realize he had still been scanning the side of the road until he sees him. For a moment he thinks he is going mad, that he is imagining things. That it is the return from purgatory all over again. But the mess sitting by the road side resembles Cas so little that it has to be real. It's surprising Dean recognizes him at all.

He slams the breaks, and is out of the car before it has properly stopped. He barely registers Sam screaming his name. He gets to Cas's side and when there is no movement on his part he fears the worst. Because it would just be there luck to find Cas dead, a mere 5 miles from the bunker.

"Cas, come on," he mutters, patting his cheeks. He notices how thin Cas is, how his hair has grown, and the beard. He looks worse than when they were in purgatory. But then again, he’s probably human now.

There is breathing, but it's shallow. Sam is suddenly by his side helping him lift Cas and put him in the car.

"We have to take him to a hospital, he is too weak," Sam says. Dean nods at him.

They are almost near the car when Cas opens his eyes. "Dean...? Is that you? Sam?" He asks, his voice barely louder than a whisper, and hoarse.

"Yeah, buddy, it's us. We're gonna take you to a hospital, okay?"

"I'm fine, Dean. I just need to sleep, rest. I'll be fine."

They give him water once they manage to get him on the backseat. Sam digs through his backpack and finds some kind of nuts power bar that he gives Cas. Cas nibbles on it, but eventually manages to eat it all. He is asleep again not long after.

"Well, he is not dead. Should we still take him to a hospital?" Sam asks, looking at knocked out Cas.

"Bunker is closer. We got medical supplies, some is old as balls, but we are about as well stocked as any hospital within 100 miles. Let him sleep it off. We’ll see how well he is once he wakes up," Dean answers getting inside the Impala. Sam nods, mostly at himself and gets in as well.

Cas wakes once they arrive at the bunker, and Dean had made sure the short drive was extended as long as he could, to give him time to rest. But it had been as slow as he could actually drive.

Cas blinks at the light, but he manages to get out of the car on his own. Sam and Dean help him down to the bunker. When they reach the reading room, Cas throws a hated look towards Crowley and nods to Kevin. Charlie waves, but Dean realizes they never met.

"I’d like to get cleaned up first," Cas says, his voice a little louder than before.

"Can you make it to the bathroom alone, or do you need help?" Sam asks.

"I’m fine, I can make it." They watch him shuffle towards the bathroom, alert to see if Cas actually needs help. Once they hear the water start running they share a look and move towards the kitchen, away from Crowley’s ears.

"So, he is actually human, then? Not just bared from heaven like the others?" Sam asks.

"No mojo on him, from what I see. He looks tired, and sore, and probably wounded or at least bruised. And he stinks. I mean, really horse level man stink. Don’t tell me you didn’t notice that. He is thinner, which means he also needs food now, and we saw him sleep. I haven't checked, but I'm positive he also poops now, so by all accounts he is human." He is not sure what more can he say to define being human. "I mean, he didn’t look this bad after a year in purgatory."

"Alright, I get it. So, what are we going to do?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, do we start to look into a way to make him an angel again? Do we keep searching for angels? Can we finally get to hunt for Metatron?"

"And how do you propose to do that? As for Cas, let him rest. We can then see what he wants to do." Secretly, Dean is happy Cas is human. He is happy he can finally distance his friend from the rest of the heavenly horde of douchebags. But he remembers 2014, he remembers the human Cas he met there and didn't like, the one that was so frustrated by having lost his grace, who was so depressed that he had thrown himself into drugs and sex. And he is not quite sure his Cas won't want to be an angel, given the chance. That he won't be as frustrated as that other one.

Sam simply raises his hands and leaves, and he is glad that he does not try to take the conversation further. He wants to solve the Metatron problem, he really does, but unlike Sam, that isn't a priority to him. Getting Sam well was, finding Cas was, and now getting Cas healthy again is the priority. Friends, family, whatever Cas is, they always come first.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The order of the POV was changed for this and the next chapter.

Dean looks inside the bathroom. Cas is barefoot and shirtless and making a mess. Dean smiles at him affectionately. He still can’t believe they just happened to find Cas. It was a good thing they did find him though, as he is thinner, much thinner, and covered in bruises and scars. He looks tired even after the impromptu nap in the car. How much longer could he have had walked to get to the bunker? How much more could those blistered feet have taken?

He watches Cas’s attempts to clean himself with a washcloth while spilling water everywhere and leaving dirty footprints as he moves around. He doesn’t know why he simply doesn’t shower. Or takes a long soaking bath. But looking won’t make Cas move faster, or heal his wounds, or make sure he is all right. Leaning on the door frame, he makes his presence known. "You should shower, you know? It will be much faster."

Cas looks up, like a deer in the headlights, hand clutching the washcloth near his stomach. "I have nothing else to wear, and if I take these off, I don’t think I’ll want to put them on again." His voice seems lower than ever, if that is possible. It's quieter too. But his face, his face is full of expressions and Dean marvels at this. He sees the shame and guilt beneath the tiredness, but also a certain contentment and peacefulness.

He realizes he is staring, and blinks. "You know you can borrow, right? I mean, Sam’s clothes are obviously out, but between Kev’s and mine, we will find something that fits you."

Cas half smiles, and Dean sees relief. He is going to like this new openness of Cas face. "Then I’d like to shower. Very much."

"Wait here, I’ll get you some towels and some clothes."

Dean leaves Cas in the bathroom. He picks a t-shirt, boxer shorts and a pair of sweats. They will probably fit. The towels are next. He is gone about 3 minutes, but when he returns to the bathroom Cas doesn’t seem to have moved. He is still clutching the washcloth like a lifesaver. The water is still running from the sink tap.

Dean puts the stuff down and gets close to Cas, a hand on his shoulder. "Hey, you ok?"

Again with the half smile, but this one is clearly forced, trying to mask sadness and failing. "I’m tired, Dean. I ache all over, and I have no idea what to do. I had one goal and it was to get here, because you and Sam would surely know what to do. But Metatron messed with my head, I couldn’t remember how to contact you, I only remembered I had your numbers written down once I let go of the coat and was far away. I hitchhiked, but most times I wasn’t even going in the right direction. And the closer I got here, the more confused I got. When you found me I was losing hope, I was so ready to lie down on the road, let night come and just…"

Dean is startled by the turn this speech has taken, so he moves his hands to Cas’s cheeks to make him look up and just stop going down that path. "Hey, hey, you are here now, you are safe. We’ll figure something out, we always do. Okay?" Cas nods at him, and Dean lets go of his face. "Let’s start with a bath, a good meal and good night’s sleep. Here, let me help you."

He helps Cas sit down on the toilet, and turns on the hot water. He grabs the first aid kit from beneath the sink, and another wash cloth. He works first at cleaning Cas feet, making sure no more dirt gets inside the blisters and open wounds. He disinfects the wounds, just to be safe, he knows he’ll have to do it again once Cas is clean. Once he is done, he checks Cas face for any open wounds, and follows to his torso. There are some cuts on his back, but nothing too serious. The way his ribs are showing worries Dean a lot more.

"Okay, get your pants off, so I can check your legs." Cas does it without questioning or looking at Dean. Dean averts his eyes, not sure why. And also not sure why it’s so important to him to make sure every inch of Cas’s body is checked for wounds and splinters. He tries not to linger on that, although tiredness and the stress from the past week mean that he has very little control about where his mind drifts to.

While he waits for Cas to get undressed he notices the open door, making his thought take another unexpected turn. Because an open door leaves room for escape, even if a closed one is not necessarily locked. And Dean wonders if he left it open for his sake or Cas’s. He also wonders if he should man up and just close it, make it just the two of them, closed off from the rest of the bunker. Private. Intimate, his brain supplies unbidden.

"Dean?" Cas is standing again, buck naked. Dean realizes he had been going commando. It is also unfortunate from Dean’s position kneeling on the floor. He gets up before he says something he might regret, and makes the decision to close the door. Can’t have Cas catch a cold, right? Or have someone get the wrong idea, from seeing him in that position without any context.

He checks Cas legs, and there are a lot of scratches and cuts and bruises on his chins and ankles. So he asks Cas to sit again while he cleans those, but it doesn’t take long. Soon the tub is filled, the air is warm, and there is nothing else for him to do there. So he stands up, turns off the water and stares at Cas trying to convey that he can get into the water. Cas stares at him, not showing any sign of understanding his look, but he does get up as well.

"Dean…," he starts, looking at his hands. He looks perfectly comfortable being naked, and it isn't anything that Dean hasn't seen yet, although he is glad that this time there are no bees. But even if Cas is human, there are some things that will never change, and Dean feels that Cas is far too close, far closer than anyone would have been even fully clothed, or at least anyone other than Cas.

Cas seems to figure out what he wants to say, or manages to find the courage he needs, so he looks up and starts again. "Dean, thank you. For helping me, for finding me. For healing me, I suppose."

"Cas, it's okay. Nothing you haven't done for us a bunch of times-"

"Nevertheless, thank you."

Dean smiles at Cas, not sure what to say next. He looks at the filled tub and Cas seems to get the message this time, and moves to get in. He needs a little help stepping in the tub, and Dean obliges. As he sits down he lets out a loud moan, and Dean physically takes a step back, not knowing what to do with such a sound without it being in a sexual context. Such a sound coming from Cas.

He is flustered, so he busies himself picking up the discarded clothes with the pretext of washing them or throwing them out or anything that will allow him to leave the bathroom without seeming like he is running away.

His hand is on the doorknob when Cas speaks up, "Please stay. Keep me awake. It would be stupid for me to drown after all I just went through."

Dean nods, but realizes that Cas has his eyes closed and can’t really see his answer. This gives him time to do a double take on what Cas had said. "Wait, did you just make a joke?"

"No, Dean. Drowning is no laughing matter," he deadpans. But there is a quirk to his lips that tells Dean otherwise.

Dean chuckles, and is amazed, not only at Cas making jokes, but making jokes about his mortality. And that's when it finally hits him. Cas is human. Actually human. Naked, bruised, bleeding and fully aware that a simple thing like taking a bath is filled with enough risks to kill him. And he is okay with that. The last hang-up that Dean had about him and Cas, the one that he didn't even realize was there, suddenly is not valid anymore. Because now they are equals, both human, both mortal, with no power imbalance. With no fear of angering a mythical being, a being that can smite him or punch him like he was nothing. With no guilt of having all that power at his disposal, by just asking, by just twisting the truth a tiny bit. It's a new path opened to him, with a possibility of an almost normal life.

So he stays, and listens to Cas retelling the highlights of his journey, and updates him on what he and Sam have been doing. He helps him get the shampoo out of Cas hair, to which he accuses Dean of trying to actually drown him. They play and laugh, and Dean can't believe they actually have a reason to. That he can finally hear him laugh.

But soon Cas is complaining about cold water, and stepping out of the tub, into the unfolded towel that Dean holds. It's been a while since he has done that, engulf someone in a giant towel. He used to that to Sam when he was small and not the giant he turned out to be. It used to end in a mock fight. Before Sam knew about hunting he used to pretend he was a ghost, but that had been a short lived game.

He ponders doing the same to Cas, starting by ruffling his hair and ending up in some kind of tickle fight. He is positive Cas never had one of those, and that's part of the entire being a human experience. He is also very certain that Cas is in no condition for any kind of rough play, so he just helps dry him off.

Once they leave the bathroom, Sam has sandwiches prepared for Cas, and takes his turn mothering him. It doesn't take long for him to eat, and soon enough they take him to his room to sleep.

 

* * *

 

Castiel wakes in the middle of the night, or at least he supposes it’s night, from another nightmare. He is lost at first, not recognizing the place he is in, the quietness of the room, the warmth and comfort. Eventually the events of the previous day start coming to him. Being safe, the bunker, Dean. Dean, who is entering the room, looking worried.

"Are you okay?" Dean asks.

"Nightmare," Castiel explains, although the word is not enough to describe the horror of Metatron's torture and accusing stares of dead angels. But then again, no words or combination of would ever be. Dean sits by him, giving him time to get his breathing back to normal, and to collect his thoughts.

"Were you standing guard?" he asks when he realizes how fast Dean had come to his rescue. He doesn't think he had been screaming in his sleep to have woken him up. And if that had been the Cas he is sure Sam would be here as well.

"Kind of. Look, you were pretty beaten up before, we actually thought you might be dead for a minute there, and Sam and I decided that maybe we should keep an eye, make sure everything is okay. Just for tonight. Just until we sure we don't have to rush you to a hospital."

Castiel nods once and looks at his hands, which are still shaking. He knows he has to calm down but controlling physiological responses is much harder as a human. Dean holds his hands, which both helps and worsens his state. He is startled by the contact, much as he had been before when Dean treated his wounds, still not used to it after being so long all alone; but he also feels more grounded, and safer.

"Want to talk about it?" He must look confused because Dean adds, "About the nightmares. Is it a regular thing?"

"Yes, most of the nights I get them. They are not all the same. Sometimes it's the angels, sometimes is Metatron, in a few occasions you and Sam."

"Do you think this is Metatron messing with you? You know, like when you used to get into my dreams?"

Castiel remembers. He had just saved Dean, didn't really know him then, didn't really care to know. He had been the perfect little soldier, battling on, no questions asked. But Dean's dreamscape had been so unlike what he had expected. For someone that had just spent 40 years in Hell it was surprisingly peaceful and horror free. For someone that had been dealing with the supernatural from a very young age, it was surprisingly ordinary. For such a hardened man, it was surprisingly beautiful. That had been the first crack in Castiel very imperfect armor. There had been a resonance in those dreams, of a soldier that should have never been so.

"Cas?" Dean's voice interrupts his thoughts.

"Sorry, got a bit lost in memories. I don't think it's Metatron. The dreams feel real. Regular. It's just guilt."

"You've got nothing to be guilty for-"

"I do, Dean. I let Metatron fool me. I should have known better than to trust him. It seems that every angel is rotten to the core, power hungry."

"Well, you get no argument from me on that point. But you know, so do most humans." He pauses, looking pointedly at Castiel. "Maybe we should get you a tattoo or something like that, with the things you put on our ribs. It seemed to do the trick for us. Make sure Metatron can’t get to you. And an Anti-Possession tattoo too. Maybe a leather jacket and a motorbike? No? This way we can leave the image of holy accountant in the past." Dean finishes with a smile. "Now, seriously, we should do the tattoos. And I didn’t really mind the coat. It was iconic. Like Clark Kent’s glasses, you know."

"No, I don’t know this Clark Kent." Castiel answers, smiling, although it’s true, that’s one reference he has yet to acquire. "But I get what you're saying. I was afraid, you know? That you wouldn’t recognize me without the coat."

"Never, dude. Last time that you kept popping up, sure you had the coat, but that thing was filthy. Purgatory filthy. And I still knew it was you while I was driving. Clothes don’t make a person, never believe that. There was a rough period when Sam was 13 or 14 when he wanted to dress nice and rich to impress a girl. I don’t want to go through that explanation ever again."

Castiel laughs, and wishes he could have seen it. But without powers, memories and the past are beyond his reach. He notices Dean staring at him. "What?"

"Just… today was the first time I heard you laugh. I… I was surprised. I still am, every time you do it."

"Oh." Castiel doesn’t know what to say, and Dean looks a bit flustered for a moment too.

But he smiles and says, "You should do that more." And Castiel thinks that he’ll try to do so. Laughing felt good. "Are you ready to go back to sleep again?"

"I don’t think I’ll sleep just yet. But I’m okay. You can go to bed if you want. No need to keep watch."

"Nah, I’m good. Scoot over, I’ll keep you company."

Castiel discovers that by company Dean means taking up more than half of the bed and talking about all the things they discovered in the bunker. Soon, he falls asleep leaning on Dean's shoulder.

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is finally done!  
> I apologize for the time it took to update and also for not having any kind of plan for this.  
> Also I apologize for the lack of the supporting characters, but I'm still not over Kevin.  
> Thank you so much for reading!

Dean wakes up to noises in the bunker and at first he is disoriented because the door is on the wrong side and something is trapping his arm. He looks down to figure out what it is only to find Cas fast asleep, snoring lightly. He smiles, realizing he must have also fallen asleep sometime during last night.

He tries to figure what time it is, but there are no clocks in Cas’s room. The noises are probably Sam, which could mean it's really early and he is going out for a run, or just early, and he is back.

Cas starts to stir, maybe also disturbed by the noises, or Dean’s attempts to move.

"Hey, sleepyhead," Dean says smiling and Cas blinks his eyes at him.

"What time is it?" he croaks, trying to sit down. Trying being the keyword.

"No clue, but somebody is up. If it's Sam it could be really early, though."

"Uggggghhhhh…" is the only answer he gets as Cas flips down again, burying his face somewhere between the arm he is still clutching and Dean’s chest. Even for Cas this is a blatant disrespect for personal space, but Dean is not exactly bothered by it.

"So, how are you feeling today?", he asks.

"Still sore," it's what Dean gets, but since Cas has not lifted his head, it could have been something else too.

"What about we get some breakfast?"

"No," is the only answer he gets. He laughs at that, to which Cas promptly tells him to shut up.

He manages to get out from under Cas without upsetting him too much, and leaves him to sleep a bit more. He understands that the poor guy wants to sleep, wants to enjoy the comfort. He would, after walking that much and to be honest, he does exactly the same thing after a few weeks on the road.

In the kitchen he finds Sam, running clothes on, sweaty, drinking water as if he had run a marathon. Which would probably be close to the truth, knowing his brother

"Good run?"

Sam nods, while still drinking, managing to spill some all over the already wet clothes. Once he's done and has more or less dried his face on his shirt, he asks, "How is Cas?"

"Sleepy. Cranky. Alive." _Human. Safe. Recovering. Home._ He adds to himself.

"Seems a good combination. Were you sleeping with him?"

"Wai... What?" Dean is startled by the sudden question. Technically yes, but he is not sure what is brother is actually asking. Because, even forgetting about everything else, Cas was in no shape for the kind of sleeping Dean thinks is being implied.

"Just, your room was empty, and I couldn't see you anywhere else when I woke up." Sam answers, innocently. "Figured you might be in his room."

Dean scratches his head nervously and explains, "Yeah. He had a nightmare last night, we ended falling asleep while we were talking."

"Okay. You know, it's okay." Sam says pointedly, making his message clear, as if Dean needs that assurance. So, the question had not been as innocent after all.

Which adds to the fact that Dean is starting to get tired of the pointed looks, the seemingly innocent remarks that have always a deeper meaning, and of Sam's unsubtle tries to get him to talk.

"Sammy?"

"Yes, Dean."

"Mind your own business."

"Bitch."

"That's my line, jerk."

"And that is mine!" He shouts as he is leaving, laughing as if he is so smart.

Dean chuckles. Despite all, he does like his brother, and knows he means well. And he supposes it's easy to spot how Dean feels about Cas. Maybe it's the lack of action that has Sam worried but there are reasons for that.

It's not because he feels ashamed of those feelings, not that. Part has always been the fact that Cas is an angel. Or was. Sam had had relationships with monsters and other supernatural beings, but Dean had always tried to avoid it. Not always possible, true, if he missed the fact that who he was fucking was something other than human. And it had always been just that. Just sex, casual, one time things, _thank you and call me never_.

But with Cas it would be something entirely different. His feelings would be the driving force. Not pleasure, not sex. Although he really hopes there can be some of that too. But he feels like a teenager again, uncertain of what to do, afraid to put his heart in the open. Because he thought he had made his point clear a number of times before. And he thought he had gotten an answer before, only to get it thrown back at his face. Only to have Cas leave, or die, or go mad, or get brainwashed, or amnesiac. Because what had the last four, almost five years, been but a long, painful, slow and turbulent way to say that they loved each other.

In Purgatory, Benny used to joke that they were an old married couple that wasn't having sex. Dean’s response had always been a "Shut up, Benny", Cas would just keep on ignoring the vampire. But Benny had been right. They were just like a couple, they just weren't having sex. And Dean had never approached the subject of sex with Cas after that incident when they had been looking for Raphael because Cas had been so uncomfortable with the notion. Sure, he probably had had sex as Emmanuel, and he is pretty sure something had happened with Meg, but he still thought of the angel as mostly asexual. And Dean was anything but. He didn’t know how to deal with a relationship without the physical contact, without sex. The touching, the kissing, the caressing, the sucking, the fucking. Everything.

Eventually he would have to bring it up, using all the words to make sure the message was understood. He would have to or he would go mad with not being able to kiss Cas. But for now he could go on a little longer. So he would let Cas sleep. And he would make him breakfast. And then he would teach him how to drive.

 

* * *

 

Castiel wakes up with Dean shaking him, looking worried and calling his name.

"What?" he manages to ask, while sitting up on the bed, Dean still looming over him.

"You looked like you were having another nightmare. And I was having trouble waking you up."

"I… I don't remember any dreams. Not since last night." He had grown used to not remembering every single dream. He assumed it was a human thing and not Metatron's spell. Though from being woken so suddenly, he would have expected to remember something.

"Are you sure that Metatron hasn't been messing with your dreams?" Dean steps back and starts pacing, still worried, and Castiel can't blame him, not after Naomi had controlled him like she had the past year. Having his dreams controlled by someone who they are sure has not a single good intention in them, that was reason enough to be concerned.

"Sure? No, of course not. As human I lack that kind certainty. But it never felt like my memories were altered, beyond the confusion that seems to be a product of the spell," he tries to explain. It's hard though, because he is not even sure how Metatron managed to do that.

"So, your head _is_ messed up?"

"Yes, I suppose. But not being actively messed up with. Just… side effects." That's the best way he can describe it to Dean.

"Any other side effects? Besides confusion. Anything else we should know about?"

"Not that I am aware. And I think the confusion is not as strong in here as it was when I was alone. I think maybe it's dependent on not having a control group to ascertain the validity of my situation."

"Those are some pretty big words, Cas. I thought we had agreed that you wouldn't talk like a robot. Besides, all that you just said? What I get is that part of your confusion was just you being lonely."

"I suppose. But it wasn't just that, Dean. There was clearly something working against me getting here."

"I know." Dean sits facing him, and takes his hands, forcing his attention in him. "Listen to me, Cas. There is nothing wrong with feeling lonely. Anyone who had to go through what you did would have felt lonely at some part of the way, if not the entire way. The fact that you are still sane is a testament to your strength. I mean, I'm not sure I would be able to do it. I hadn't been hunting alone for that long, when I had to get Sam - and I can make friends in any bar I walk into. Hell, I made friends in Purgatory. And look at me, I've been dragging the kid along with me all this time, just because I don't want to be alone. So, feeling lost, confused, even if there is no spell, it's normal."

"Dean…" He appreciates Dean trying to put loneliness into perspective, but he accepts it, he has no problem with having been alone and lonely. It's the helplessness he can't deal with, the fact that if Metatron had wanted, he could have made sure Castiel died the most horrible death, maybe a mere feet from the bunker, and there was nothing he could have done to prevent it. And the fact that Metatron hadn't done just that.

"I mean it Cas. And look, you are not alone anymore. If there is still confusion, or numbness or bad dreams, you can come to us, you can come to me. And we'll figure it out. Together. Okay?"

"Yes, Dean," Castiel answers, nodding slightly.

Dean gets up and lets go of his hands. "Now, what do you say about some food, and getting out of bed?"

Castiel misses the warmth of Dean's hands on his, and it's such a strange feeling, because he had not been craving that touch particularly. So he balls up his fists and sighs. "Yes to the first part, but can't I stay in bed all day. I understand it's something humans do."

"Are you still tired?"

"No."

"Are you depressed?"

"No."

"Then what do you want to do in bed all day? There's no TV here."

"I don't know. You've been human longer than me, what does one normally do when they stay in bed all day?"

"Sleep, which is out because you're not tired. Mope, but you are not depressed or morose by character. Watch TV, or read, I suppose. But most times, there are two people involved, to keep each other company."

"So stay here with me."

Dean freezes in the spot, looking surprised. He stays still for one, two, three heartbeats and Castiel starts to think he broke him. Finally, Dean appears to have processed what Castiel has said, but still can't make a proper comeback and just stands there going through whatever it is he is thinking about saying, his entire internal monologue showing on his face.

He never makes up his mind, though. Just sighs, picks up a tray Castiel hadn't noticed was in the desk by the door, and sits next to him, leaning on the headboard.

"Eat," it's all he says.

 


	8. Chapter 8

The tray is forgotten on the floor, and the bed covers are strewn everywhere. Cas is still wearing his makeshift pajamas, Dean discarded his boots long ago. They are holding hands. If anyone asked, they wouldn't be able to say when that had happened. Maybe Cas had tried to get Dean's attention and grabbed his hand. Maybe it was the other way around. But however it started they had yet to let go.

Cas has questions about being human and Dean isn't sure he can answer them all. It's like having a four year old in his care all over again, only with far harder and stranger questions. _For how long does the body stay sore? Why do people hurt themselves in the name of beauty? Are clothes really necessary if it isn't that cold? Why is some clothing only appropriate for women? Why can't humans agree on anything? Why not tell the whole world the supernatural exists?_

Dean for his part is interested in knowing how different it feels to be human and what he finds most strange about humanity.

There are questions neither of them ask. _Is this okay? Can we stay like this forever? This is real, isn't it?_

The day goes on, and Dean doesn't know what the rest of the people in the bunker are doing or think Cas and him are doing. Maybe Sam took them all out for a road trip, Crowley included. Maybe they are all listening in, making bets. He wouldn't put it past Sam to do that. But he's not sure he cares either way.

They doze off, although they aren't really tired, but the comfort and warmth of the bed lulled them into sleep. Dean wakes up to Cas pressing his lips to his neck.

"What are you doing, Cas? Decided to become a vampire?"

"I've seen people do this before. Not sure I understand why. Why the neck and not an arm? The nerve endings are similar."

Dean could have just told him it feels better. But his smile turn predatory. "I'll show you."

And he does. He starts by just pressing his lips, like Cas had done. He leaves light kisses along Cas's neck, and he knows Cas is not impressed. When he starts to get antsy, to the point he might complain, Dean lets his tongue flick the skin, just briefly, but it's enough for Cas to be surprised.

He keeps with the light kisses, switching to the other side of the neck, but letting his tongue come out more often. When he reaches the jawline he starts biting, and then sucking on the worried skin, leaving his mark. Cas starts breathing a bit harder, so Dean knows he is finally getting the appeal. As he makes his way back down the neck, Dean abandons the light kisses in favor of open-mouth, wet and dirty ones, with a few bites here and there, and exhaling into the wet skin, with hot breaths that leave Cas trembling and moaning.

"See? Not the same as with an arm."

Cas’s eyes are dark, full of lust, but there is still a spark of mischievousness. "I wouldn't know. I require hands on experience of that too."

Dean chuckles but he is happy to comply. He starts with the hands, kissing the palms, softly, lightly, as he moves up to the wrist. There he starts licking again, and biting. He moves up the forearm, kissing and bringing his own hands to it, stroking and grabbing along the arm, rubbing his fingers along the bite marks. Once he reaches the sleeve hem, he stops and looks at Cas, who has his eyes closed, and is obviously enjoying himself. But he has to check, because this is sudden, and unexpected. "Are you sure you are okay with this?"

"Dean," he admonishes without opening his eyes. "You would know if I wasn’t okay. I am very much okay with this."

"It’s just that, before— You have never shown much interest in this."

Cas opens his eyes, and stares into Dean’s. "That was before. Before, I was in a vessel. It works differently."

"And now?"

"Now it’s just me. My body, my entire being perfectly contained within it. And you are neglecting it."

"Pushy," he answers, but he helps Cas remove his shirt, so that he can continue kissing his arm. He makes his way with lips, tongue and teeth, until he reaches the shoulder. "So, what’s the verdict, neck or arm?"

"Dean, the scientific method requires multiple samples and experimentation," he answers as he moves to straddle Dean legs, and kisses away any reply Dean might have.

Dean doesn’t complain. Cas’s kiss is intense and hungry. He uses his hands to hold Dean’s face, and he is not ashamed of using his tongue. Dean might have gone gentler for a first kiss, taking into consideration Cas past hangups about sex. He is glad Cas took the initiate though. He moves his hands to hold on to Cas, to make sure they can deepen the kiss, that none of them are going to stop. It does bring them closer together, and it’s surprising to feel Cas’s erection pressing against his. He gasps, for air and in surprise, but just for a moment, before he is pulling Cas down for another kiss.

Kissing evolves into grinding, and Dean has the presence of mind to start removing clothing, first his shirt, then his jeans, followed by Cas’s sweats, until they both discard their underwear.

They keep exploring their bodies, Dean trying to find out Cas’s sensitive spots, while showing him his. They kiss and laugh, Dean mixing playful bites with kisses and licks. He suck Cas’s fingers, trying to show him that hands also feel pleasure, and Cas is a fast learner, so he mimics Dean every move, driving him crazy.

Cas’s intensity soon threatens to overwhelm Dean, so he tries to slow down, stopping the kisses all together, just holding on to Cas, stroking him. He wants to take his time and to make the most of this, but he also wants to just dive in and have it all.

"Dean?" Cas asks, still short of breath.

"Just, just let me slow down a bit. I don’t want it to be over in 5 minutes."

"There would be no shame in that. We’ll have other opportunities to go slow." There is a question implied, even if Cas hasn't phrased it as one.

"We’ll have forever," Dean answers before leaning in to kiss him again.

**Author's Note:**

> Non-Con explanation: Castiel is masturbating and a stranger female makes use of his erection. Castiel is surprised but as he has been touch deprived figures it will help him feel better. Needless to say that his state of mind isn't the not even close for proper consent.


End file.
